


Forgotten at Dusk

by halfmast



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Raphael, M/M, POV Simon, becoming bros and maybe something more fic, but raphael focused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfmast/pseuds/halfmast
Summary: Simon finds Raphael wandering around Manhattan barefoot - things go downhill (uphill?) from there.





	1. Part 1 - The problem

**Author's Note:**

> Set post 2x14 but AU from there to a nebulous future time when Simon and Clary are back to being friends.

The rain was caught somewhere between a haze clinging in the air and an actual drizzle. It fogged up his windshield, but when he turned the wipers on the slight screech of rubber on not-quite wet glass made his jaw clench.

 

Simon was still waiting to get used to the heightened senses. Any day now. Probably.

 

He sighed, rolling the van to a stop at a red light. He’d dropped Clary off at the Institute after a night of fruitless inquiries into the mortal instruments. They were trying to line up some information on the mortal mirror and Simon had volunteered his services like a good boyfriend (it was that or hang around the boathouse alone, tooling around with his guitar). No one seemed to know much about the mortal mirror though.

 

It was funny how much shadowhunter business took place at night even now that he could walk in the daylight. It wasn’t quite daylight yet though; the sky, like the weather, caught somewhere in-between. The moon was still out, but the dark sky was streaked here and there with hints of a lighter blue. He was looking forward to the sunrise – he planned to never take them for granted again. His face was tilted up, peering through the windshield at what he could see of the horizon, when the car behind him slammed the horn.

 

The sound made Simon jump and bang his head on the roof of the van. “ _Fuck,”_  he hissed.  Apparently—the light had changed.

 

He moved the van forward, shooting a glare in the rearview mirror, but the car behind him wasn’t _satisfied_ with that, it came around to pass Simon and promptly had to stomp on the break, leaning in the horn _again._

 

Simon rolled his eyes, blowing out a breath. He didn't see what the problem was right away, not until he leaned forward. He saw him then, a lone figure walking along the side of the road. The man was staggering drunkenly, his steps taking him by turns onto the street and the sidewalk. “Drunks in Manhattan, can we move it along people…” he muttered. It’s not like it was a rare occurrence.

 

The headlights from the car now in front of him lit the man’s profile for an instant and Simon did a double-take, because that – _that_ looked like Raphael Santiago, of the clan leader for the Vampire Clan of New York City fame. Simon craned his neck back to look and the _other_ car behind him honked.

 

He slowed even more though, this time _letting_ the last car behind him pass him by as he took his time to look in the rearview mirror. That couldn’t be Raphael, it was ten minutes to sunrise. He glanced at the clock, eight minutes. It wouldn’t make sense for that to be Raphael, they weren’t even anywhere near the DuMort.

 

It couldn’t be him, Simon decided. His gaze went to the mirror again. There were hints of pink streaking sky. He hit the brake on the van, blew out a breath, “Shit.”

 

Would it hurt to double-check? What would he even do if it _was_ Raphael? Offer him a ride? Suggest he vamp speed to the DuMort? This was _not_ Simon’s responsibility. He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. It was more likely this was someone very drunk... someone weaving in and out of oncoming traffic –

 

He sighed. In which case maybe Simon could call someone for them… that would be the right thing to do. And it’s not like he had to worry about being mugged – vampire strength and speed came in handy.

 

He was still turning it over in his mind it while he pulled the van over at a fire hydrant. Once he and Clary had had a beer each after one of his gigs and they’d been so tipsy and giggling and scared their Moms would find out they’d done nothing but talk about it – loudly, apparently.  A stranger had given them a bottle of water and gum on the subway. It had felt like the kindest thing anyone had _ever_ done for them in the entire time they’d been alive.

 

Simon could be that guy. He could offer a water bottle and gum, if he had gum. He could _get_ gum  –

 

His thoughts sputtered to a stop.

 

That was _definitely_ Raphael. Raphael without a shirt on, also.

 

He watched him through the mirror for another beat before getting out of the van. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, he was probably the _last_ person Raphael wanted to see right now.

 

Actually, he frowned, _Raphael_ was the last person that _he_ wanted to see right now. There had been way too many stakes present at their last meeting. He didn’t move as Raphael lurched towards him though, because this drunk-and-shirtless-at-almost-dawn thing definitely merited some kind of brief remark (and the sun, Simon thought again, what about _the sun?_ ).

 

Now that he was close enough Simon could see that there were scratches, gashes that weren’t healed yet, all along Raphael’s shoulders and chest and back. He prepared to say something, _who looks like they’ve been hanging out with wolves?_ Because wolves and claws and –

 

But Raphael just kept walking, moving past the van and past Simon standing awkwardly by the van without so much as a glance.

 

Rude.

 

Simon pressed his lips together, _this_ close to getting back in the van, but _the sun_. He sighed again. “Hey,” he called reluctantly, “Raphael, come on. I’ll uh give you ride? Okay?” He moved to follow him, “You don’t even have to tell me about your obvious night of drunken debauch – ”

 

Raphael whirled on him, fangs bared, and a hiss like the wind directed at Simon.

 

Simon reared back, “Whoa! Okay!” He snapped, lifting both arms up, “Tone down the aggression, I’m trying to save you from an ashy death – ” he retorted, pointing at the lightening sky with one of his raised hands.

 

Raphael’s response was to stagger back away from Simon so quickly he almost tripped, catching himself only by crouching to the ground, a hand pressed to the the sidewalk to steady himself.

 

Which is when Simon noticed he was barefoot.

 

He blinked at the sight and for a moment, neither of them moved.

 

“So – uh dumb question?” Simon opened uncertainly, “ _But_ … are you okay?” He took a slower step towards him then, when all Raphael did was look at him with dark, guarded expression. “Raphael? Is this some feeding-in-the-night hangover thing you have going on right now?”

 

Confusion twisted Raphael’s features, the fangs disappearing slowly as his dark eyes moving over Simon’s face slowly. “Do you – ” his voice was a rasp, “You know me?”

 

Simon blinked, opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He stood there, frozen, while the _enormity_ of what Raphael had just asked sank in. “Are you serious right now?”

 

Raphael straightened up slowly, his gaze – Simon realized – wasn’t quite as sharp as it usually was and his hair was plastered to his face, like he had been outside when the rain had _really_ been falling. “You know me,” he said now, less of a question.

 

“Yeah.” Simon took another step towards him, his arms still out to his sides, just lower now, “I know you,” he told him, “Do you – ” he felt _stupid_ just _saying_ it, but he pushed the words out, “– know me?”

 

It looked for a moment like Raphael was trying to focus and then something like a wince flickered over his face. “ _Should_ I?” He demanded.

 

Simon drew himself up at the tone. “You know what, pal…” he scowled, “If this is some kind of twisted fun you’re having then – ” and of course Raphael wasn’t even looking at him. He waved a hand in Raphael’s face, “Hey are you listening to me?”

 

Raphael clearly wasn’t listening though, he was looking past Simon, beyond him.

 

At the sky, Simon realized, at the _sunrise._

 

The sky was starting to glow, the light spreading through the air, and it lit Raphael indirectly for an instant; it highlighted his pallor and the open wounds and had heat bubbles rising on his skin.

 

Simon inhaled sharply. “Oh shit, shit. Get in the van, get in, get in, quick… go, go…” he ushered Raphael towards it as he moved, shoving at his arms and shoulders and back, feeling sticky blood under his fingers.

 

And Raphael went, tripping over his feet and catching himself on the side of the van until Simon wretched the door open and propelled him inside, “Get in the back! Out of the sun!”

 

Raphael didn’t so much as get in the back of the van as he did stumble and fall into it, crawling all the way to the far end. As far from the sunlight as he could get.

 

“G – ” Simon coughed. The word stuck in his throat and he breathed out a long breath for a moment, leaning back against the van. The sun was on his face now and he shut his eyes; his heart should be pounding, he thought, if he were alive his heart would be pounding. He had almost watched Raphael go up in flames just now. He rubbed a hand over his face.

 

Raphael.

 

Right.

 

He opened the door to the van carefully, sliding into the front seat, and turning to face the back. “So – ” he announced, his voice forcefully bright, “That was exciting.”

 

Raphael had latched onto one of the dingy blankets they had used to cover equipment and he had wrapped it around himself. It was hard to unsee the pallor now that Simon had seen it, to not notice the way Raphael’s hair was curling slightly as it dried, the way the scratches where his arms were still visible through the blanket weren’t healing.

 

Simon cleared his throat. “So, you uh know you’re a vampire, right?” He checked.

 

Eyebrows lifted very slightly. “ _Obviously.”_

 

And Simon had to admit (just to himself) that it was probably some kind of a grand feat to sound _that_ disdainful over a simple question while sitting huddled under a blanket on the floor of van. Outwardly though, he huffed and frowned and showed his frustration by letting his voice rise an octave, “Okay, like what the hell is going on? Because you look like shit and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing about you wandering around barefoot in New York City close to dawn. Which by the way, _you’re welcome_ for the save. So could you just tell me what is going on, just this _one time?_ Since I pulled over like an idiot and let you in here to being with. And also,” Simon continued, wrinkling his nose, “ _Barefoot in New York City._ That’s like the worst thing to ever do.”  

 

“I don’t know,” Raphael said after a beat, pulling the blanket around himself more tightly.

 

He was trembling, just slight tremors, but Simon noticed them then; another thing he couldn’t quite unsee. “How do you not know?” He asked, his voice a touch less demanding all of a sudden.

 

“By _not knowing,”_ Raphael retorted lowly, his gaze fixed on the floor of the van.

 

Simon frowned again. “Okay, you know what? I’m just going to drop you off at the DuMort and then I’m _done_ with this,” he announced angrily, turning in his seat to face forward.

 

He had his hand on the gear shift when Raphael shifted slightly in the back of the van.

 

“I don’t… remember.”

 

The words were very soft, hesitant. And Simon breathed, “Oh,” going very still, “Right.” He lifted a hand and adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see Raphael in the back. “You don’t remember what happened,” he echoed, questioning and just a little skeptical.

 

In the mirror, he watched Raphael shake his head slightly, “No.”

 

Simon swallowed hard, if Raphael was serious about this –  “What... _do_ you remember?” He asked carefully, because Raphael had _asked_ him if he knew who he was, had avoided answering if he knew who Simon was; because if this was real, if it wasn’t some elaborate scam to mess with Simon’s head and manipulate him into doing something; if Raphael _truly_ didn’t remember himself then it was _way_ over Simon’s paygrade. He was not equipped to handle something like this, he barely even _knew_ Raphael to begin with and there would _definitely_ be some of kind attack involved in _not remembering yourself._

 

He licked his lips, waited.

 

“I don’t – I don’t know,” Raphael murmured finally, his voice was faint now. “I can’t – ” he went still then.

 

And Simon felt an uncharacteristic jolt of worry of spiral through him. “Okay, alright… we’ll uh – we’ll figure that out then. Yeah, we can – ” He shifted in the seat again, facing the back, “Magnus,” he said, the thought bright in his suddenly very loud and busy mind, “You remember Magnus, right? He’ll know what to do, we’ll go talk to him, and he’ll figure this out and it’ll be fine…”

 

There was no response except for the dark head lowering to his knees. Now Simon couldn’t see his face.

 

“Raphael?” He checked. Then added inanely, “That’s your name. Yeah, I know you. You know me. I'm Simon.” He paused, waited for a response, “You okay back there?”

 

Another bout of silence. “Okay, listen – ” Simon started.

 

Only to be interrupted. “Stop _talking,”_ Raphael muttered.

 

And Simon pressed his lips together, strangely relieved. He rolled his eyes. “That sounds about right,” he said dryly.

 

There was no further retort though. “I’m going to go back there, don’t – bite my face off or anything…” he warned, before leaving the front seat and approaching Raphael.

 

“Hey,” he said, “For real… you okay?”

 

Raphael drew back slightly, curling into himself more tightly. He had made himself very small now; another thing Simon wasn’t sure he’d be able to unsee. “Raphael,” he said, “You’re really freaking me out…”

 

Raphael spoke finally. “I can’t remember anything,” he said, “Just… I was on the street and it was raining. I don’t – know how I got there, I don’t… know anything. It’s all… just dark.” He lifted his head, looking at Simon with heavy-lidded dark eyes, “But you know me…?”

 

 _All just dark._ “Yeah.” Simon answered quietly. “Raphael Santiago, clan leader for the New York City vampires.”

 

There was no recognition on Raphael’s face. He blinked slowly, “Okay,” he murmured. “Could you… take me home?”

 

It was such a simple request and it made Simon’s heart turnover. “I – ” he breathed out, “I’m going to take you to… to see Magnus. He’ll help you, he’s a warlock, do you know – do know what that is? Do you remember him?” It was a dumb question, Simon _knew_ it as he asked, but this was hard to comprehend. How could this be happening?

 

“A… magic maker,” Raphael told him softly, his head dropping to his knees again, “I don’t remember him.”

 

 _Magic maker?_ “Okay,” Simon offered, looking at him for another moment. He sat down across from him then, getting his phone out. “We’re going to call him and see what he says…”

 

Raphael didn’t respond and it occurred to Simon abruptly that it maybe had nothing to do with reticence or wanting to annoying him, maybe Raphael was just _too tired_ to respond to everything he was saying.

 

He swallowed hard and made the call. Magnus did not pick up. Simon glanced at his watch – it was 5:37 AM.

 

The voicemail piped up and Simon talked, nervous energy in every word:   _Hey Magnus, so uh good morning? Yeah. So hope you’re home today because you’re uh about to get a surprise vampire visit. I’m uh with Raphael and we could use some – well, he could – we need some uh magic... making? So we’ll uh be there soon. It’s important, really. Okay? Right, bye. See you._

 

He ended the call and looked at Raphael, waiting for a comment. That hadn’t exactly been his smoothest sentence, but there was none; no movement either.

 

Simon hesitated for a moment and then reached a hand out, touching his shoulder.

 

Raphael startled under his touch, jerking away slightly.

 

“Sorry,” Simon said automatically, pulling his hand back, “I just – we’re going to head to Magnus’. Stay back here and maybe, cover yourself, okay? With the blanket, just in case, with the sun…”

 

Raphael lifted his head to look at him and Simon felt that jolt of worry spiral through him again. The eyes fixed on him were hazy, not quite tracking, and his lips hardly moved when breathed a faint, “Okay,” and then shrugged the blanket a little closer.

 

Simon nodded. “Right, yes. Okay then, off we go…” he hesitated again though, because the tremors and the hazy eyes and not-healing – “If you uh... ” if he _what?_ He shook his head, “Nevermind. I’m gonna – do the driving thing, going…”

 

Simon rolled his eyes at himself, but Raphael remained silent, not taking the very glaring opportunity to mock him. It was… disconcerting.

 

He blew out a breath and got back got into the driver’s seat; twenty minutes and they’d be at Magnus’, then maybe they could get things to make sense again.


	2. Part 2 - Explanations (sort of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that read and left kudos; and to those who commented! I appreciate it.

Raphael was a huddled bundle of blanket at the back of the van when Simon finally pulled into Magnus’ underground garage. The trip had been silent and uneventful and Simon had already worked out three different ways this could end badly. Was there still a vampire kill order on his head? It didn’t _seem_ like it, but who even knew with these things?

 

He didn’t say anything as he got out and went to open the doors. “We’ve arrived,” he announced, trying for cheerful as he swung the doors to the back open.

 

The blanket shifted, but that was the only response. Simon sighed. “Okay, come on. Let’s go up and see Magnus…” The sooner they could see Magnus, the sooner Simon could get back to the boathouse and pretend this strange episode of As the World Turns: Downworlder Edition hadn’t happened to him.

 

Another shift of the blanket and then Raphael’s head appeared, his hair was dry now, curling around his ears, there was dust from the blanket on one of his cheeks; and even here, in the dark garage, Simon thought he looked paler than he should. He cleared his throat, “Come on…” he said again, motioned for Raphael to get out of the van. “Magnus awaits… hopefully.” He had sent him a _we’re on our way_ text that had gotten the reply of _if you must._

 

Raphael nodded, albeit slowly. He shuffled forward, keeping ahold of the blanket and squinting slightly, like he expected there to be sun.  He didn’t stand when he’d shifted to the edge of the van, just sat with his legs over the side.

 

Simon was about to point out that they would need to _move_ to get to Magnus when Raphael spoke, “Do I – ” his voice was low, dry; he paused and started over, “Do I know… Magnus?” He wondered, dark eyes meeting Simon’s without their usual confidence, just a reserved, searching look.

 

Right—Raphael’s random amnesia. Simon pressed his lips together, be cool. “Yeah, yeah. You and Magnus go way back. I don’t know exactly _how_ way, but definitely _way_ back.”  

 

Raphael nodded again, licked his lips a little. “And he lives… here?”

 

“Penthouse loft, yep,” Simon told him.

 

Raphael nodded his head yet again, but there was no question this time. Just a small movement with his hands to push up from the van and then he was standing, still clingy to the dusty blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

 

“Side-door is through there and then we can take the elevator up,” Simon told him, moving towards the door, “Stay behind me, I’ll be the sunlight look-out,” he added wryly; and wasn’t _that_ a pretty good name, he thought with a little smile, the kind of thing he would have asked Clary to spray paint onto the van back in the day…

 

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Raphael was following—and he wasn’t. Raphael was a few steps behind him; and he wasn’t wasn’t moving at all. He was standing very still with his head bowed.

 

 _He’s barefoot_ , Simon remembered; and just then,  Raphael swayed, staggering sideways and back a little, a hand slipping out from the blanket as if to catch himself, but there was nothing there but air.  

 

“Hey, whoa,” Simon closed the space between them with vampire speed, hands gripping Raphael’s arms tightly, “You okay? Raphael?” He demanded, a bubble of worry making his voice sharp.

 

Raphael’s head was still bowed, so when he breathed, “Sorry,” through barely moving lips Simon almost didn’t catch it.

 

His eyes widened a little. “It’s… okay?” This was definitely not okay. He cleared his throat, “Let’s just get to Magnus and he can… he can heal you,” he said, realizing the truth of it as he spoke. It wasn’t just the memories – the tremors were slight, but still there and the scratches were still visible on Raphael’s arms – he was _hurt._  “Alright?” Simon checked, letting go of his arms now that he seemed steadier, “You good?” He prompted when he still didn’t get a response, resting a hand on Raphael’s back.

 

Raphael _didn’t_ nod this time, instead he murmured a very low, “Yes,” and took a step forward, towards the doors. “I’m… good.”

 

The phrasing sounded foreign coming from Raphael and Simon frowned a little, anxiety pooling in his gut. He kept a hand at Raphael’s back as they moved, steadying him twice more on the walk into lobby and then the elevator.

 

In the elevator, Raphael leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.

 

“You’re not going to pass out are you?” Simon blurted out, anxiety spilling over.

 

“Don’t plan to, no,” Raphael answered. The words were soft, slow, and when he opened his eyes a moment later, his gaze was hazier than it should be, “You… ” he hesitated, “Must be a good friend. To… bring me here. To be made well again.”

 

And to _that_ Simon had nothing to say. He opened his mouth and then shut it again. It felt almost like he was going to break out in a cold sweat – could that happen to vampires? “I uh, I’m… we – ”

 

“Thank you,” Raphael said simply when Simon trailed off; and then he shut his eyes again, tilted his head back slightly.

 

Simon swallowed hard and said, “Yeah. No… problem,” into the silent space.

 

When the elevator doors finally opened, Raphael didn’t move, and Simon suspected it was because Raphael was _exhausted._

 

“Hey,” he said and his voice as unintentionally soft, “Just one more hallway, okay?” He told him, touching a hand lightly to the blanket over his arm.

 

Raphael opened his eyes – and he seemed… grateful. He nodded, moving with Simon out into the hall. Simon led the way, but his hand found that same spot on Raphael’s back again, holding him steady there. .

 

As soon as they reached the door, he knocked insistently and it clicked open automatically.

 

“Yes, yes, come inside,” Magnus called from another room, “At this abominably early hour…”

 

It was probably Magnus’ voice - calm and in control - or maybe simply the sensation of being able to pass this off to an _adult,_ to someone who could handle this properly, someone who could _fix_ this, that made the pitch of Simon’s voice go up a notch, that had the words, “Raphael’s hurt,” spilling out of his mouth.

 

“What?” The coolness in Magnus’ voice vanished and Simon could hear footsteps.

 

He swallowed hard, turning towards Raphael to bring him forward into the foyer just as Magnus turned the corner into the room.

 

His eyes widened, “Oh no, oh my dear boy,” Magnus breathed, moving towards Raphael with outstretched arms. “What’s happened…?”

 

And Raphael shrank back against Simon, Simon’s hand on his back the only thing keeping him from stepping back entirely. His hands came up slightly as if to hold Magnus off and it _tugged_ at something in Simon, “It’s okay,” he offered, smoothing his hand along Raphael’s back.

 

He gave Magnus a helpless look. “I just found him like this, he doesn’t remember anything…”

 

Magnus had stilled in front of Raphael, not moving, not touching him. “Raphael…” he said after a beat of silence, his voice steady, as if testing something.

 

Raphael shook his head in a tiny, aborted movement. “I don’t – ” his voice cracked and he didn’t he didn’t continue.

 

When Magnus spoke again, his voice was gentle, meant to soothe, “It’s alright. I’m going to help you. I just want to help you… okay?” He moved closer to him then, a slow step, “You’re my family, I’m going to take to care of you,” he told him.

 

And Simon felt it in the hand he had at Raphael’s back, the way the words eased something in him. Tension seemed to seep out of him and Magnus must have seen the change too, because he was moving forward again, coming up to touch Raphael softly.  

 

Magnus’ hands were on Raphael’s face, his shoulders, pushing the blanket off him, smoothing with featherlight touches over the his arms; his hands slow and gentle. “Tell me what happened.”

 

And Raphael's expression wavered at the care, his voice cracking and hoarse when he said, “I don’t _know.”_

 

The bewilderment in the words made him sound very young and Simon blinked – he had known (obviously), that Raphael was young, or rather, that Raphael had _been_ young when it had happened, when he’d been turned. It shouldn’t have been a new realization, but standing in Magnus’ foyer, watching as he led a dazed Raphael over to a couch,  it _felt_ like one.

 

“ _Simon.”_

 

Magnus’ voice was sharp, snapping him out of his reverie, and Simon rushed forward. “Yeah – ”

 

“What happened here?” He demanded, his hands lifting Raphael’s legs up to the couch, his magic already beginning to glow a soft blue over Raphael’s feet.

 

“For real, I have no idea!” He said, his voice rising again. “I was just driving and then I saw him and he was like totally weaving into traffic and I thought it was a drunk guy and I was gonna do the good samaritan thing and then it was Raphael and I didn’t even know what I supposed to do because it’s not like the two of us are even speaking to each other and then he didn’t even stop to talk to me, which would have been fine except for the sun and then it turned out he didn’t even remember – ”

 

“That’s enough,” Magnus interrupted him. He was leaning over Raphael, his hands still glowing blue, starting to move up to Raphael’s arms.

 

And Raphael noticed it then, rousing from his daze. “What are  you – what is that – ” he shifted to sit up, his gaze flying to Simon for a beat - wide and alarmed - a hitching breath he didn’t really need in his chest, “How – ”

 

“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” Magnus soothed, “You’ll feel better soon.”

  
But Raphael shook his head, lifting a hand to bat clumsily at Magnus’, “No, what – what is it – ”

 

“Magic maker, remember?” Simon tried, moving to sit at the end of the couch, “Just like you said. So that’s magic. He’s healing you…”

 

“Just lie back,” Magnus said softly, “I know it feels odd, it won’t take long…”

 

Raphael’s gaze went to Simon again, resting heavily on his face.

 

So Simon nodded a little, “Uh yeah…” he agreed and patted Raphael’s ankle lightly – awkwardly. Because what was he _doing?_ Was actually _patting_ Raphael. The notion felt surreal, but he felt like he should do _something._ Because Raphael kept looking to him, like Simon was going to give him the right answer. His gaze staying on him even now, as he nodded and settled back against the sofa so Magnus could continue his work.

 

And Simon didn’t know what he was supposed to _do_ with Raphael seeking that kind of reassurance from him. So he just sat at the end of the sofa and watched silently as Magnus’ blue magic moved over him.

 

It didn’t take long, but it wasn’t quick either. Magnus _hmm’d_ a few times, the glow of his hands intensifying, before he lowered them, apparently satisfied. “That should do for now,” he said quietly, crouching by Raphael’s head. “Better?”

 

There was a slow nod from Raphael in response, heavy-lidded eyes blinking at Magnus, “Doesn’t hurt as much,” he told him in a languid sort of way that spoke to being almost asleep.  

 

Magnus’ smile was tight, but genuine. He rested a hand tenderly in Raphael’s hair, “Good. I’m going to get you in some clothes, alright? You’ll be more comfortable.”

 

Another slow nod from Raphael and then Magnus’ magic was flowing over him, leaving him a in soft-looking pale gray t-shirt and dark sweatpants; gray socks covering his feet.

 

“Rest now.” Magnus’ voice was soft, but firm. His hand squeezing Raphael’s wrist gently, “You’re very safe here and we’ll sort this out when you wake up.”

 

Raphael shifted dark, unfocused eyes from Magnus towards the end of the sofa, where Simon was, as if checking that Simon hadn’t left. “Okay,” he breathed and his eyes drifted shut.

 

Simon watched him for a moment, worrying his bottom lip a little, “But you can still see – ” he made a small motion with one of his hands to his own arms. The scratches were still faintly visible on Raphael’s arms, faded white and pink lines that didn’t look right on his skin.

 

“He needs to feed,” Magnus said, his voice low and serious, his gaze somber as it rested on Raphael for another beat, “He just needs the rest more. There’s fresh blood for him in the cooler for him when he wakes up.”

 

Magnus held still for another moment and Simon watched a blanket take form over Raphael, settle over him slowly. Then Magnus’ attention turned him sharply. “Come with me,” he said, getting to his feet and heading directly to the drink cart.

 

Simon followed more slowly and with a sigh; Magnus was already fixing himself a drink when he reached him. “Do I get one of those?” He wondered. “I could use one of those, you know. This has not been simple morning.”

 

Magnus slid a look at him, then flicked his wrist and a dark red drink appeared at the end of the cart. “Start at the beginning, more slowly this time,” he told him.

 

“Look, I legitimately have told you everything I know.” Simon said, starting to feel tired by this conversation. “I dropped Clary off at the Institute. I was driving back to the docks. There was a guy weaving into traffic, I thought I’d help. It was Raphael and he was just… _like_ this…”

 

“Like this,” Magnus stated. “You found him wandering around the city half-naked with no memories of himself or anything else?”

 

“ _Yes,”_ Simon said emphatically, “That is exactly what I am saying.” He reached for the drink and took a big gulp. Then coughed, “That’s – wow,” he cleared his throat, staring at the contents of the drink, “What’s in this?”

 

“Blood and vodka,” Magnus stated, “Continue.”

 

“That’s it though,” he shrugged, “That’s all I’ve got.”

 

“Where did you find him?”

 

Simon sighed and gave him the cross streets, took another gulp of the drink. He was feeling a little better already. “So, what do you think happened? This is weird right? This isn’t like a regular fell-and-bumped-my-head thing?”

 

Magnus was frowning, the glass in his hand already half empty. “There was magic in those wounds, it’s all over him. He’s tacky with it.”

 

“So _definitely_ not the fell-and-bumped-head thing,” Simon nodded, taking a slower sip of the drink, “What does that mean? Another warlock?”

 

Magnus’ frown had evened out into a stony expression. “Only a very stupid warlock,” he stated after a moment. “It would be possible though, I suppose. I don’t know of everyone that Raphael has managed to… _upset,_ in his lifetime – and he’s rather good at it. Or of everyone Camille has paid off.”

 

Right. Camille. Simon’s stomach sank. That hadn’t been so long ago yet that she couldn’t have supporters. “You think – ” Simon licked his lips, fidgeting slightly, “You think he was attacked then?”

 

“That much is fairly obvious,” Magnus stated. “The magic was muddy, whether inadvertently or purposefully I can’t tell. It could very well be Seelie magic for all I can read through the tangled, murky mess of it.”

 

“Okay,” Simon said with a little nod, taking that in, “So how do we figure it out?”

 

And Magnus gave him a strange look then, head tilting slightly to one side. “ _We?”_ He noted.

 

Simon blinked. “Oh,” he swallowed hard, “Uh… yeah, I figured – ” his gaze slid past Magnus towards the couch where Raphael was sleeping, “I mean, since I found him and all…”

 

“You’re free to go,” Magnus said simply, “With my thanks, of course. Taking him in, bringing him to me, I’m grateful.”

 

“Right, well. Yeah, I mean I wasn’t going to just leave him for the sun. I wouldn’t do that to anyone…” Apparently. Because if he was going to do it someone it’d be Raphael… right? His gaze trailed back towards Magnus and he found himself saying, “I don’t mind helping.”

 

Magnus was silent for a beat. “Alright then,” he said grandiosely, “You may help.”

 

“Okay… great,” Simon replied, feeling strangely abashed all of a sudden. “So what do we do first? Take blood samples? Canvass the neighborhood? Call the – _is_ there Downworld police? Oh my god, is that what Shadowhunters are?” Simon said, his voice rising a little, “Do we call the Institute? Is that what you would normally do in this kind of – ”

 

“Let me stop you there,” Magnus interrupted. His lips quirking slightly, “Normally, _no,_ we would certainly not involve Shadowhunters in this business unless absolutely necessary. Circumstances being what they are...” he made a small motion with one hand as if to say _I won’t be keeping it from them._ “The first thing we need to do though, is much more straightforward.” He motioned with his drink over to his workstation. “We need to find out where Raphael was tonight.”

 

“Oh,” Simon said, a little disappointed. “That makes sense.”

 

“Indeed,” Magnus said dryly, finishing his drink and then waving both his and Simon’s glass away. “That will help us determine who cast the curse. And we can go from there. Simple.”

 

Simon swallowed hard. _Curse?_ “Curse?”

 

“Hm,” Magnus nodded, “It’s all it can be—and a lot of magic went into it. So if we can track where he’s been tonight it’ll go a long way to figuring out what happened. Not many could pull something like this off…”

 

“Oh,” Simon said again, “Okay, so tracking. Let’s – ”

 

“Be a dear...” Magnus continued and waved his hand over the workstation – a map of the city appeared, “And map out the trajectory you took from the Institute to where you found him. I have some calls to make.”

 

Simon looked down at the map and then back at Magnus, “Are you sure that’s all you want me to – ” but Magnus was already moving away.

 

“Alright then,” Simon sighed, looking at the map. “I guess that’s all you want me to do.”

 

He had a chair pulled up to the workstation and was carefully tracing the lines of the a city street with a red pen when movement in the other room caught his attention. Raphael was shifting on the couch, his feet scrambling as if backing away from something, hands clawing at his sides, his stomach.

 

Simon stood just as Raphael jolted awake, sitting up ramrod straight.

 

“Hey, hey…” he said, approaching the sofa slowly. “You’re awake.”

 

“I – ” he blinked, looking around, obviously disoriented.

 

“We’re at Magnus’,” Simon offered lamely.

 

Raphael’s gaze drifted back to him, “Simon…” he said, voice still hoarse from sleep.

 

And Simon felt that _tug_ again, found himself moving forward and sitting at the end of the couch. “Yup, yes. That’s me.”

 

Raphael stared at him for another beat and then seemed to shiver a little, lifting a hand to rub at his face. “Yeah, yeah, I remember that…” he cleared his throat, “I feel like – ” he hesitated, lowering his hand, “Like I got hit by a train,” he said with finality.

 

That finality - like he’d evaluated the options and made a fact-based decision - made Simon smile a little, “Nope. Just a curse.” He tilted his head a little, “At least I don’t _think_ you got hit by a train. Could vampires survive that?”

 

Raphael arched his eyebrows, “You’re asking me?”

 

And Simon huffed a laugh, “Right. Yeah… good point.” His smile settled on his face, “So, nothing still, huh?” He tapped at his temple.

 

“No…” Raphael answered, his gaze dropping to the blanket unseeingly, “My dream – it was dark and there was – something, but I can’t…”

 

Simon frowned a little. “It’s okay…” he offered, “Dreams are hard to remember even when your brain _hasn't_ been poked full of magical holes.”

 

Raphael looked at him curiously then, his eyes clearing, “I suppose,” he tilted his head, “Did you say it was a curse?”

 

“Yeah, that’s what Magnus thinks,” he told him, “He’s working on it.”

 

Raphael nodded slowly. “Is he – he said he was my family.”

 

“Oh,” Simon blinked, not expecting that, “Yeah, I guess…” he trailed off then admitted, “I don’t really… know that much, about that…” Or _anything_ about that.

 

“Because you and I aren’t speaking,” Raphael noted, his eyes meeting Simon’s, “That’s what you said.”  

 

Simon felt strangely caught out by that, he hadn’t planned on _keeping_ it from Raphael or anything – but it wasn’t something he was going to bring up either. “I did… I did say that didn’t I…? I – and you heard that,” he offered, searching for an explanation to give: _You kidnapped me this one time? And then I died. And then you tried to kill me a couple weeks ago? But there’s that time you helped me with my Mom? But that was after you threatened my Mom?_ “You heard me say that…” he drawled instead, trailing off.

 

Raphael’s lips twitched a little. It was an odd expression on his face, like amusement – but without any of the other intentions that usually lined it – nothing smug or sarcastic or hard about it. Just amusement.  “Yeah,” he said, “I told you I wasn’t going to pass out. And I was right here. So I heard that.”

 

Simon breathed out, eyeing him for a beat, “Even with no memory you're kind of a know-it-all,” he remarked.

 

Raphael offered him a small half-smile, “Must mean I naturally know it all then.”

 

“Something like that,” Simon offered. He fidgeted on the sofa, then told him the truth, “You and I aren’t friends, no,” he said, “Like you were saying before that we must be – must be good friends. We’re not. We’re not really friends at all…”

 

“Oh,” Raphael said and confusion flickered over his face. His gaze stayed on Simon’s face though, eyes curious, “What are we then?”

 

The question caught Simon off guard and he huffed a small, dry laugh. “I don’t really know, man. I mean, I guess… lately, we’re really… we’ve been fighting a lot.” _You tried to kill me_ , he almost said, because a part of him still couldn’t quite believe that; that Raphael had held a stake in his hand and had _really_ been going to stab him with it, that Raphael would’ve killed him and then brushed the dust off and gone back to his life.

 

The words wouldn’t come though, not with this Raphael looking at him with calm, trusting eyes; his expression open and curious, this Raphael didn’t have the edge that Simon had gotten used to and he didn’t _want_ to tell him about it. “We used to be – friendlier, sort of. Before.”

 

Raphael nodded slowly, starting to look a bit more worn out again. When he spoke though, it was to ask, “Before what?”

 

Simon almost sighed. Before, when he had lived at the DuMort. Before, when he hadn’t tricked Raphael to help Clary. “I was helping a friend and I lied to you, you took it _really_ personally.” He gave him a tiny smile, “And you hold grudges I think.”

 

“Ah,” Raphael tilted his head a little. “Did you apologize?”

 

Simon considered that, it all felt like a long time ago now, even though it had only been a month or so ago. “No,”  he had to admit with small shake of his head.

 

“Are you sorry?”

 

He thought of Jocelyn and how at least Clary had gotten a little more time with her. “Not really… I mean, I’m sorry I had to do it that way, but not really sorry I did it.”

 

Raphael lips quirked again, that faint, but genuine amusement on his face, “I’m getting a clearer picture,” he told him, leaning back into the couch a little. He rubbed at his face again, “Why’d you stop to help me then?”

 

“Because…” Simon said, frowning slightly. “I mean –  ” Why _had_ he stopped? He could have just kept driving.

 

And if he’d kept driving, Raphael would be dead right now.

 

The thought made him feel sick, his stomach cramping up. He didn’t want that, he realized abruptly, he didn’t want Raphael dead. Raphael was –

 

And that was the question wasn’t it? What was Raphael? _What are we then,_ Raphael had asked him.

 

“I don’t hate you, we’re not enemies,” he offered, his voice quiet. He didn’t think of Raphael that way, but he wondered suddenly if Raphael thought of him that way? It didn’t sit right with him. “I couldn’t just leave you like that. You’ve helped me. When I was first turned into a vampire and even – even more recently, you helped me…” he said, thinking of the rat in his room and his Mom, “It’s just we’ve – hey, what? What’s wrong?” He asked quickly, cutting himself off and straightening up a little.

 

Raphael was looking at him with a startled expression. “You’re a vampire too?”

 

“Well, yeah? I mean – ”

 

“But the sun? It didn’t…” Raphael trailed off.

 

“Oh, uh yeah. Yeah,” Simon shrugged, “That’s – new. For me. I can go in the sun and not go _poof,”_ he told him. “Kind of a side-effect of a kidnapping… not your kidnapping of me. A different kidnapping…” he paused, _hearing_ what he just said, “You kidnapped me once.”

 

And right then, Raphael looked a little bit overwhelmed. “Oh,” he said quietly, seeming to sink back a little more into the sofa.

 

“Yeah, but don’t like worry about it…” Simon found himself saying inanely, “That was a long time ago.”

 

“Did I – ” Raphael cleared his throat slightly, “Did I apologize?”

 

“Uh, no,” Simon said, his brows furrowing – Raphael looked exhausted all over again. “You should get some more rest, I think. Magnus said – oh, there’s blood.” He remembered, looking up and towards the cooler, “You should drink some, it’ll help. Okay?”

 

Raphael’s face wrinkled slightly and he shook his head slowly,  shut his eyes. Simon leaned forward a little, touched a hand to Raphael’s leg, “Raphael? Hey...?”

 

His eyes opened a little blearily, “Not gonna pass out,” he told him softly, that faintly amused smirk appearing again, “Just… tired.”

 

Simon just looked at him, registering that Raphael was making a joke, and unable to look away. “So you should sleep…” he told him, his voice quiet.

 

“Yeah,” Raphael agreed, looking at him again – gratefully, like he had in the elevator. “Thank you – for this, your help, staying.” He closed his eyes, “Even though we’re not friends…”

 

Simon blinked. “I’m helping Magnus figure out what happened, that’s all.”

 

“Still…” Raphael breathed, the word soft, faded.

 

And after a moment, when Raphael didn’t continue, Simon figured he must have gone back to sleep. He found himself leaning back, but still couldn’t quite look away.

 

 


	3. Part 3 - The fix (hopefully)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone that's read and left comments and kudos! Much appreciated. This fic went a little longer, so there will be an epilogue to tie things up with Simon and Raphael. Thanks again!

“Taking a break, are we?”

 

Simon startled at Magnus’ voice, jerking a little (what vampire reflexes?), and looking up at Magnus with widening eyes – he had no idea how long he had been sitting there while Raphael slept.

 

Magnus was standing by the couch, holding the map, and Simon realized he hadn’t actually _finished_ tracing the route he’d taken after he’d left the Institute. “Oh, shit! Sorry, I’m not done with that…”

 

“I noticed,” Magnus said simply, his gaze straying to Raphael, “Did he wake up?”

 

“Yeah…” Simon murmured, following Magnus’ gaze. Raphael was pale and still in sleep, one arm lying over the blanket on his stomach, the other at his side. His head was tilted away from them, strands of hair lying on his forehead, and Simon forgot to look away.

 

“You should’ve called me,” Magnus noted, “I would have – ”

 

“He’s really different, you know…” Simon interrupted, the words bubbling up.

 

Magnus’ brows lifted slightly, “Pardon me?”

 

“Raphael. He’s like a totally different person right now,” Simon explained, “He keeps asking me if we apologized to each other. Like that – like that’s a _thing_ ? And he’s kinda funny? Sorta. Like he has a sense of humor, which is – I mean he definitely doesn’t, _usually_ have one. He’s just – really different.”

 

Magnus’ expression evened out, a soft upward tilt to his mouth. “I take it he woke up enough for you to have chat then...”

 

“Kind of, yeah…” Simon admitted, frowning slightly at Raphael’s sleeping form.

 

“That's good,” Magnus said, “Did he have blood while he was awake?”

 

“It’s like he had a personality transplant,” Simon continued, not really registering the question. His voice was quiet, his gaze still on Raphael, “I don’t think he even glared at me.”

 

“Lack of remembering you will do that to a person,” Magnus pointed out, a faintly amused lilt to his soft voice. He was careful to keep his words quiet so as not to wake Raphael up.

 

“So,” he noted after a moment, watching Simon watch Raphael, “He didn’t drink any blood and you didn’t finish the map.”

 

Simon looked up, expression faintly defiant. “I’m _telling_ you, I got distracted by his _total_ personality transplant…”

 

Magnus gave him a faintly exasperated look, “I doubt it was as extreme as that – ”

 

“Yeah no, it totally was!” Simon insisted, his voice rising slightly. Raphael shifted at the sound, turning his head, hands moving against the blanket.

 

They both went still, silent, until he settled again. Magnus held a hand over Raphael’s head, soft blue magic curling from his fingers, illuminating Raphael’s face. “To help him stay asleep,” he told Simon, “He needs the rest, perhaps it's best if you went – ”

 

Simon shook his head, interrupted with quiet words. “No yeah, I know. I just… look, we just talking, I guess. Regular talking, non-glaring talking, which I think is an actual first for us, even when we were friendly-ish about stuff there wasn’t like… friendly conversation. I don’t think there was _any_ glaring at _all_ – ”

 

“Why would Raphael glare at you when he has no idea who you are?” Magnus cut in to wonder.

 

“I don’t know! I just thought it was his default expression!”

 

Magnus arched his eyebrows. “It is not.”

 

“Well, obviously!” Simon huffed.

 

Magnus’ look turned a little more pointed.  “If it’s so important to you…” he drawled, motioning towards the desk area, “Finish the route you took. Figuring out what happened tonight is the first step to getting Raphael to glare at you again.”

 

Simon blew out a breath, “It’s _not_ , I just thought…” he trailed off, shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted a little helplessly.

 

And Magnus softened a little. “It has been a long night for you, go home. Get some rest yourself. I'm sure I can figure out tonight's events without – ”

 

“No I want to help,” Simon said quickly, resisting the urge to look at Raphael again. “I’ll help, I’ll finish this right now,” he said, taking the map from Magnus and heading back to the desk.

 

Magnus’ gaze stayed on him for a moment, Simon could feel it, heavy and searching, before he heard him moving away. He kept his focus on the map even though he could hear Magnus moving around quietly at the other end of the apartment, the soft clink of glass bottles and the dull pop of vials being uncorked. He didn’t hear movement from the couch though, no unconscious intakes of breath or rustle of fabric – Raphael was lying completely still. He tried not to think about whether that was good or bad.

 

When he finished, he walked the map (quiet so he wouldn’t disturb Raphael) over to where Magnus was working with a small cauldron at his workstation. There was a faint bubbling sound coming from the liquid inside, wisps of smoke rising up from it.

 

“This is it,” he told him, waving the map a little and peering into the pot, “What’re you doing?” He wondered.

 

“Set it down there,” Magnus indicated, “I’ll look at it in a moment.”

 

Simon nodded, doing as he was told. “What is that?” He asked again, moving in a little closer.

 

“Careful,” Magnus warned, holding a hand out to keep him a few steps away. Then he continued, “I spoke to a friend of mine, she suggested a potion might be helpful for Raphael… she’s well-versed in this kind of thing.”  


“Curses?”

 

“Healing,” Magnus corrected.

 

“Oh,” Simon nodded, pressing his lips together, “Right.” He shifted on his feet a little, glancing back at Raphael quickly before asking, “So uh… did you figure this out then?”  

 

“Not exactly.” Magnus slid a measured look at him before adding, “I spoke to Lilly, you’ve met her, I presume.”

 

And Simon hesitated. “I think so,” he offered. “I don’t remember everyone from the clan,” he admitted, and felt he need to add: “I wasn’t really there for that long and it’s not like I'm buddy-buddy with any of them. I mean, _some_ of them have been like… following me around lately, because of the daylighter thing, but I wouldn’t say I know them…” he would _definitely_ not say he knew them. “I know people by face…” he finished, just a touch self-conscious.

 

Magnus nodded and all he said was, “Lilly is loyal to Raphael.”

 

It still threw Simon off a little, the way words like that were tossed around with the clan – loyalty, betrayal, family. It made everything seem bigger than he liked to think it was, “So she knew where he was tonight?” He asked instead of giving that more thought.

 

“She had a general idea, yes,” Magnus said, stirring the pot carefully. “Not names, but some locations and times.”

 

Simon waited, but Magnus continued his work, stirring the contents of the cauldron slowly. Sometimes adding a splash from one of the many small vials he has lined up, watching it closely. “Are you going to tell me?” Simon prompted when the silence continued to stretch.

 

Another small, measured look from Magnus and then he shook his head slightly. “No, I’m afraid I’m not.”

 

He added something to the caudron that made the wisps of smoke turn blue.

 

Simon blinked. “Why not?”

 

Magnus sighed softly. He lowered his hand from the cauldron, shifting a little to face him. “It was information given to me in confidence,” he paused, “Clan information.”

 

And honestly, despite everything, that sort of _stung._ “Oh,” he said, his voice small. “Yeah, that…” he cleared his throat, “I guess – sure. Okay.” Clan information. He wasn't part of the Clan. He didn’t _want_ to be part of the clan, he reminded himself.

 

“I do appreciate your willingness to help,” Magnus told him, “But it isn’t my place to divulge confidential information.”

 

“Yeah, I get it…” Simon said, but even he could hear the faintest edge of resentment in his voice.

 

“No,” Magnus said after a moment, “I’m not sure you do. But perhaps someday you will.”

 

He frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Just that you’re very young, Simon. There is still much you have to learn about the Downworld.”

 

“I get it. I’m not like part of the clan, so I don’t get to know – clan secrets, or whatever,” he stated.

 

“This bothers you,” Magnus noted.

 

“No…” Simon frowned, “Maybe. Not really…” He shrugged, “I don't know…” another thing he didn't know today.

 

“It's the first time it's come up,” Magnus added.

 

And Simon nodded, “Yeah, I guess so.” He resisted the urge to glance towards the couch again, “It's never really been an issue… I don't usually…” he trailed off. He didn't usually care about vampire business.

 

The expression on Magnus’ face said he knew exactly what Simon hadn't said. “You're in a very unique position for a vampire, Simon. And not just because of your a daylighter status…” he went back to working on the potion.

 

Simon wasn't stupid, he’d realized that already. “Because of Clary.”

 

“Hm,” Magnus hummed. He waved his hand over the cauldron and it was gone, in its place was a vial filled with translucent blue liquid. “Let's see if we can get him to drink this and then we’ll worry about finding who did this…”

 

Simon’s gaze was on the floor, “When you say _we_ you’re not actually including me, are you?”

 

Magnus hesitated for a beat. “The first part, sure. If you’d like to stay.”

 

“But you don’t want me to,” Simon said, trying to understand the reluctance he was feeling from Magnus.

 

“I welcome your help, Simon. I believe I’ve mentioned that.”

 

“Then why are you – I feel like maybe you don’t want me to…” he shrugged, lifting his gaze to look at him.

 

“I find it curious that you feel invested in this, that’s all,” Magnus offered.

 

It _was_ curious and Simon could add it the list of things that he didn’t _really_ have an answer for, “Saving someone from turning into an ash-puddle does that to a guy,” he said lightly.

 

Magnus smirked. “This is true,” he allowed, “Go wake him, I’m going to prepare some blood for him and then he can take this…” he picked up the vial.

 

“What’s it supposed to do?” Simon wondered. “Can you tell me _that?”_

 

“I _can,_ ” Magnus said archly, “Now whether I _want_ to…”

 

“Magnus,” Simon said on a little huff. “Come on…”

 

“Alright, alright,” Magnus acquiesced, smiling slightly, “If this potion works, it should purge the rest of the magic from him – and that should help with the memories. There are two others he’ll need to drink as well, but this is the most critical one. I’ll work on the others as soon as he taken this one.”

 

“Oh,” Simon said, his expression clearing. “That sounds good. That sounds easy.”

 

“Simple,” Magnus corrected, his gaze going to the sofa, “Not easy.”

 

Before Simon could question that, Magnus nudged him towards the sofa. “Go on,” he said, “I’ll be right there.”

 

Simon gave him a funny look, but moved towards the couch. He sat on the coffee table and just looked at Raphael again, sleeping. The plan seemed simple enough: wake him up, have him drink the potion, then watch him get his memories back. At which point, Simon would be finished with his part of this whole thing.

 

He swallowed hard at the thought. Then reached over and nudged at Raphael, “Hey,” he said softly, “Wake up for a minute…”

 

Raphael startled slightly under his hand, a little jolt back that had Simon removing his hand quickly. “Sorry, sorry…” he breathed, watching Raphael blink his eyes open.

 

There was a moment when hazy dark eyes fixed on Simon, that he wondered if Raphael would remember now – if he would know who he was and scowl and demand that he leave (it made something twist anxiously in his gut); but then Raphael smiled a little and Simon that wasn’t coming, not yet.

 

“You’re still here,” Raphael noted quietly, rubbing at his eyes a little. His gaze when it met Simon’s again was clearer, less exhausted.

 

“I’m in it for the long-haul,” Simon joked. “Or you know,” he added, a touch more soberly, “Until you want me gone.”

 

“I don’t want that,” Raphael said easily, shifting and sitting up a little. “You okay?” He asked, brows drawing together slightly, “Something happen?”  

 

Simon smiled slightly. “Nah, just – I thought maybe you might remember… something.”

 

“Ah, no,” he said, smiling faintly, “Nothing new up here,” he tapped at his temple lightly, scrubbing his hand over his face again, “I feel less… like roadkill though,” he offered wryly.

 

And Simon found himself smiling back a bit more, “Small favors.”

 

“You’re telling me…”

 

They shared another small smile and then Simon looked away, cleared his throat. “So yeah…” he started, “Magnus is getting you some blood. And he made a… potion. It’s supposed to help. One of three...”

 

Raphael’s eyes widened a little, “Okay, that’s... good…” he said and then added, “I think that I’m... hungry,” very carefully, like he was uncertain about the feeling.

 

And Simon felt that _tug_ at his heart again, because he knew it wasn’t really the same as being hungry, it was _deeper_ than that, and he still remembered how alien it had felt the first few times. “I bet,” he said softly, “It’s probably been at least twelve hours since you ate.”

 

“At least that,” Magnus agreed, joining them. He had a mug in his hand, his gaze studying Raphael intently. “You look more rested,” he remarked, giving Raphael a half-smile.

 

“I feel it,” Raphael told him, straightening up a little.

 

Magnus touched his free hand to Raphael’s arm gently, holding the mug in front of him, “Here,” he offered, “Drink this first, then we’ll try the potion – it’s three doses, should clear the spellwork right out of you.”

 

Raphael took the with both hands, looking down at it and then Magnus’ face. “Thank you, for this. All of this,” he said earnestly.

 

And Magnus sighed softly, patting his arm, “My dear boy, absolutely no thanks is necessary.”

 

Raphael shrugged very slightly, his gaze dropping to the mug, looking vaguely uncomfortable; like he wasn’t sure what to do with the amount of affection Magnus was showing him.

 

It was such an odd look on him – Raphael who was nothing but smooth and assured all the time – that Simon felt the need to draw attention towards himself instead. He cleared his throat, “That smells good…” he said of the blood in the mug and then cringed, “Which is _exactly_ the weirdest thing to say about _blood_ that someone could possibly say isn’t it? But what can you do? Definitely nobody expects to get to a point in their life – nonlife – when they say blood smells good and actually _means_ it, like maybe a sarcastic joke or something. Which I _am_ an expert at, but in this case I legitimately mean – ”

 

“It must be time for you to eat as well then,” Magnus interrupted him, he motioned towards the kitchen, “Go on and get some. There’s enough for you in the refrigerator.”

 

“Oh,” Simon blinked. “That’s not – I mean, I’m not – ”

 

“If you want blood, then you should have some,” Magnus insisted, “Go on. You and Raphael can have some together.”

 

Raphael looked up at that, his gaze seeking out Simon’s, “Are you hungry too?”

 

And Simon licked his lips, he wasn’t really. But there was something hopeful in Raphael’s gaze that he couldn’t dismiss. It was an strange, isolating feeling to drink blood alone. “I could eat, yeah,” he said and gave Raphael a half-smile, “I’ll be right back…” He stood and moved towards Magnus’ kitchen.

 

He was nearing the refrigerator when he picked up Raphael’s voice, soft and curious, speaking to Magnus quietly, “He’s nice to me, even though we aren’t friends.”

 

And Simon stilled. Because yeah, A+ for vampire senses, but it was probably a major intrusion to listen in.

 

“Hm, yes. He’s kind. It’s part of what’s endearing about him,” Magnus noted, “And he’s trying to figure you out.”

 

“Am I difficult to figure out?” Raphael wondered, that curious lilt to his voice making him sound young.

 

There was a smile in Magnus’ voice when he said, “Quite.”

 

“Oh.” Raphael’s simple exclamation almost made Simon smile. “I didn’t think he was a vampire,” Raphael added, “The sun, it didn’t hurt him.”

 

There was a heavy pause and then, “Simon’s recently acquired the ability to walk in daylight.” Magnus’ voice was very even.

 

There was no response from Raphael as Simon took the blood out and poured it into a mug; and he frowned to himself, he shouldn’t be –

 

“Just Simon?” Raphael asked, his voice soft.

 

“Yes,” Magnus answered, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead he said, “Raphael,” his voice serious enough that it made Simon tense even in the next room.

 

“You should know,” Magnus continued, “This potion will likely work, but it won’t be… pleasant.” He paused, “It never is to purge someone of as much muddled magic as you were given.”

 

Raphael seemed to consider that, “It’ll hurt?”

 

“Yes,” Magnus told him, “I’m afraid it will. I’ll do what I can to minimize it, but it will be… a stressful experience.”

 

“Okay, well…” a breath, “Good to know.”

 

Simon’s frown at the mug he was holding deepened, he moved slowly back towards the living room. “Is there another way?” He asked as he joined them.

 

Raphael huffed a soft little laugh and Magnus lifted his eyebrows, “Eavesdroppers typically have the decorum not to out themselves immediately…” he told him, amused.

 

Simon blinked. “Right… sorry?”

 

“Come sit,” Magnus said dryly, “As soon as you’re finished with that, Raphael, I want you to drink all of this.” He held up one of the vials, “Then just lie down and try to sleep, alright?” He set the vial on the coffee table.

 

Raphael nodded, but Simon frowned again. “Wait, wait… _isn’t_ there another way?”

 

“If there were, I assure you that’s what I would be doing,” Magnus informed him.

 

Simon swallowed hard, “Right. Yeah, of course… it’s just – ”

 

“It’s okay,” Raphael said, shooting Simon a little smile, “Sometimes the only way to do something is the hard way. It’s alright,” he gave Magnus a small nod, meant to reassure him.

 

And Simon stared, at a loss. What were you supposed to say to that?

 

Magnus reached out and put a hand on Raphael’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze. “It won’t last very long,” he promised. “I have the other potions to work on,” he told them, getting to his feet. “I’ll be right in the next room.”

 

“Uh yeah, yeah,” Simon cleared his throat. His gaze going from Magnus back to Raphael who was studying the contents of the mug.

 

“So we just… drink this,” Raphael said wryly, “Because we’re vampires.”

 

Something about that made Simon’s lips quirk. “Yup, just like the movies.”

 

“Hm,” Raphael hummed, he leaned forward to peer into Simon’s mug. As he leaned back into the sofa he said calmly, “I’m going to finish before you do…” and then brought the mug to his lips and started drinking.

 

Simon blinked. “It’s not a competition…”

 

Over the rim of the mug, Raphael’s brows lifted—challenging.

 

“It’s not – !” But apparently it _was_ and Simon huffed, “I can’t _believe_ you…” He started drinking.

 

They drank in silence for another few seconds until Raphael lowered his mug, “I win,” he announced with a smile.

 

There was blood on his upper lip and it was gruesome and adorable and Simon brought his own mug down long enough to accuse, “ _Cheater.”_

 

“Don’t be sore,” Raphael teased, clearly amused.

 

“You have blood all over your face,” Simon grumbled, grabbing a napkin off the coffee table and tossing it at Raphael.

 

“Small price to pay for victory,” he joked, taking it and rubbing it over his mouth, his eyes bright.

 

Simon rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He was as amused as Raphael appeared to be and it was _nice._ “Why can’t you be like this all the time?”

 

The question slipped out, but all Raphael did was huff a soft laugh. “No idea,” he said with a little shrug. His expression sobered slightly though before he asked, “What am I like all the time?”

 

 _Fuck._ Simon almost cringed. How was he supposed to answer that? “Uh, I mean… well, I’m probably not the best person to really explain, just because…” he paused. _You tried to kill me_ , hovering too close to his lips. “Just… you’re more serious,” he offered, that was safe. “You – I mean probably leading the clan isn’t the easiest thing, but you’re definitely not – you don’t play _games_ or… smile, at all. At me.” He paused again, “You’re not like… easy to talk to or anything,” he said finally.

 

And immediately wished he hadn’t, because Raphael looked _sorry_ about that, the smiling eyes gone and his lips puckered downwards slightly, “I must not be very good at it then,” he said slowly, “Leading the clan. You should be able to talk to me, if I’m leading. Right?”

 

“Hey, listen… seriously, I’m not – I’m not the best person to talk to about this, for real,” Simon said quickly, a sinking sensation in his stomach. “I think, probably for other vampires, you’re great… it’s just, you and me – remember? We don’t really get along. But I think, I think with the others… you’re great with them. You must be. They followed you instead of Camille and she’d been doing the leading thing for probably a lot longer, so it’s just a Simon-and-Raphael thing…”

 

Raphael was watching him closely, listening to him. Simon could _feel_ his attention and when he trailed off, Raphael didn’t say anything at all.

 

He leaned forward and picked up the potion vial that Magnus had left, looking at it for a beat.

 

“Okay, well,” he said, “That sounds like a bad _thing_ for us to have.” He looked up at Simon, “We should work on that, when I’m… when I remember you. Don’t you think?”

 

“Yeah,” Simon said slowly, honestly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

Raphael smiled a little, “Then we will. Just remind me,” he joked, uncorking the vial and bringing it to his lips.

 

Simon smiled a little too, watching him nervously. “How’s it feel?” He asked as soon as Raphael lowered the bottle.  

 

“Wet,” Raphael offered.

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “Magnus said you should lie down...”

 

Raphael nodded. “I will. I don’t feel any different yet though…” he looked down at the little vial, set it down, “He said it’s going to clean out the spellwork in me, that’s weird right? Spells on vampires and that kind of thing?”

 

“Not the weirdest thing I’ve heard or seen this month,” Simon said wryly. “The whole worlds kind of weird. It just depends on – ” he stopped. “Shit, Raphael…”

 

Raphael frowned, “What?”

 

“You’re bleeding,” Simon said, a note of panic in his voice. He took a breath though, stayed calm, “Your nose is bleeding…”

 

“Oh,” Raphael said, lifting a hand to his upper lip. He came away with blood-stained fingers and he blinked at them. The frown on his face fading.

 

“Raphael, what are you feeling? Lie down…” Simon said, swallowing hard.

 

Raphael blinked again, lifting his eyes to look at Simon. His gaze was unfocused, abruptly disoriented, “It’s hot…” he mumbled.

 

And when Simon leaned forward to push him back into the cushions, he went limp.

 

“Shit, shit… just – okay, just…” but Simon didn’t know what else to say, because Raphael arched up just then, eyes rolling back in his head, and any thread of calm that Simon had been grasping at snapped.

 

“ _Magnus!”_ He shouted.

 

By the time Magnus rushed into the living room, Raphael was fully seizing, his skin so hot he felt alive and feverish. It was _exactly_ the kind of thing Simon had never needed to see in his entire life.

 

Magnus remained calm though, magic at his fingertips. He wove it around Raphael gently, murmuring soft words to go along with them.

 

And all Simon could do was watch, stand back and watch and wait. The minutes ticked into hours and when Magnus finally stepped away, he looked entirely exhausted and Raphael looked hardly any better.

 

Magnus sat down next to him and told him in soft words that this was what he had been expecting, that the potion was doing what it was intended for, that he had cooled Raphael down enough that he was no longer in any danger, that it shouldn’t last much more than a few more hours.

 

Then he would have to take the second dose.

 

It was all they could do for now, just continue waiting. The shaking wasn’t stopping though. Raphael was curled up tightly, arms around his knees as if making himself smaller would make it stop. At least there was no more blood, Simon thought a little despairingly.

 

There was something so unnatural about seeing Raphael like this – so unaware and small and vulnerable – it made his skin prickle, made something hot burn in his chest, his throat.

 

“Do you know who did this?” Simon asked, his voice low, angrier than he expected it to sound.

 

Magnus was silent for a beat and Simon’s fists clenched, expecting for the silence to continue, expecting to be denied this information too. But then the words were there, low and calm, “It was two-fold. I don’t know who delivered the potion, I know who created it.”

 

Simon inhaled. “Who – ”

 

“I will take care of that,” Magnus said simply, his voice steel. “Raphael will know who delivered it. I’m sure he’ll handle that on his own.”

 

And Simon breathed out. “Do you know why?”

 

Another pause from Magnus. “I have suspicions,” he said carefully.

 

Simon’s chest felt heavy, like if his heart could beat it would be beating too fast. “What kind of suspicions?”

 

Magnus looked over at him. “There’s unrest within the clan for various reasons,” he told him. He paused and Simon, already tense, opened his mouth to prod him for more.

 

But Magnus continued without prompting, his words low and not unkind as he explained, “Camille’s exile, the deaths at the Institute,” he paused, “A daylighter emerging. The clan is volatile these days, Simon. Raphael will need to take more care going forward. There are many that see unrest as opportunity.”

 

There was no blame in Magnus’ voice – and there shouldn’t be – Simon wasn’t at fault for any of that, except he still _felt_ responsible suddenly; like maybe he could have prevented some of it, like maybe he was a cause of some of it. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said, voice dry. “Who do they think is going to lead if not Raphael? He’s like the most… leader-y type person ever… even right now, he can’t even remember anything and he wants to be be good at it,” it wasn’t just that though, “He actually cares about it, the clan and stuff. That’s…” he trailed off, looking away. “That’s huge,” he finished very softly, “That’s important.”

 

“I would agree,” Magnus said, softening. “It would seem that not everyone would.”

 

Simon cleared his throat. “What – what can we do then? Is there something – ” he looked up, “Is there something I can do?”

 

Magnus tilted his head, his gaze meeting Simon’s for a moment, intent and searching; so much so that Simon _almost_ looked away again. He didn’t.

 

“Perhaps,” Magnus said slowly, “That is a question you ought to ask Raphael.”

 

And Simon blinked, it was, wasn't it? He clenched his jaw, he would do just that.


End file.
